


Another Night

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drinking, Intoxication, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s too tender, too close to something it should not be. Kylo can feel Hux pliable and soft beneath his hands. He lays his forehead against Hux’s, lets his eyes drift shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Night

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based partially on a headcanon I saw on tumblr. I cannot for the life of me remember who posted it, but I feel I should not take sole credit for the ideas it contains!
> 
> Enjoy!

Kylo wakes with a cry on his lips, gasping for breath.

Sweat drips from his brow, salty droplets winding down his temple to settle in the dark strands of his hair.

He tries to calm his racing heart, still his quivering lungs. Under his careful guidance, his body responds, pulse settling and regaining its steady rhythm.

Kylo knows he will not fall back asleep after such a nightmare, knows that his whirling thoughts will preclude any possibility of respite.

He swings his legs over the edge of his cot. The floor is cool and slippery beneath his feet. It wakes him up fully. Within moments, he finds himself shuffling around the room, dressing himself in a set of nondescript robes.

The collar scratches against his sweat-soaked skin and Kylo runs a hand through the damp curls at the base of his neck. Then he slips on a pair of comfortable shoes.

He forgoes the mask.

 

*** 

 

The command centre is deep in the bowels of the complex, hidden past winding tunnels and empty control rooms. The walk towards the centre is quiet this time of night and the stroll gives him a chance to refocus his churning thoughts and anxious mind.

By the time he reaches the central doors, the conflict tearing through his chest has quieted to a dull throb.

The doors open with a soft whir.

General Hux is the only person in the room. His eyes are bloodshot and his frame jittery.

Kylo notices that the man’s hands flutter restlessly, tapping patterns against his thighs.

Hux starts at the sound of Kylo’s approach, eyes flicking around at the echo of his footsteps.

“Ren.” Hux says.

Kylo inclines his head, one eyebrow raised.

“I had not expected to see you this time of night.” Says Hux. This is a lie. It’s become something of a ritual for them, these quiet midnight rendezvous.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Hux isn’t sure what prompts him to say this. He does not usually disclose his personal matters during these private evenings. After all, Kylo’s nightmares are not Hux’s problem unless they interfere with their mission.

It is thus natural that Hux should look somewhat taken aback, unable to reign in his surprise, at Kylo’s words.

Kylo thinks it is terribly strange seeing Hux so dishevelled. As long as Kylo has known him, Hux has been unbearably disciplined, an apotheosis of order.

Now, under the harsh lighting of the base, with bags under his eyes and his hair in disarray, Hux looks ragged. Exhausted.

Kylo realises that Hux has likely been awake well over 36 hours. It is a wonder he is functioning at all, but even in absolute fatigue, Hux’s devotion to the job cannot be questioned.

But Kylo has never been one to follow orders and stay disciplined. “We should get off base.” He says.

Hux’s response, when it comes, is a surprise: he nods. “I know just the place.”

 

***

 

The planet they are on is a trash heap of the worst sort: hot, sticky, and congested. Kylo is reminded of this the moment they step out the doors.

The humidity mixes with the planet’s pollution to produce a smoggy haze that suffocates the landscape. And although the thick cover hides the grubby buildings and dilapidated surroundings, it does little to way-lay the stench of putrid rot and exhaust fumes that suffuses them.

Kylo curls his lip in disgust. Beside him, Hux appears to have a similar reaction, nose scrunched as though it will protect him against the smell.

They steal through the crowded streets side by side, never straying far from one another. The din of the industrial district drowns out most noise, but if he stretches, Kylo can hear the cackling whistles of cat-callers in the streets below, and make out the throaty threats of the criminals scuttling through dark alleys. He flashes a look at Hux, who has started to head down a small side-street. The man doesn’t look back, instead winding his way seamlessly through the crowd.

Kylo follows.

Hux leads them to a run-down hole in the wall. Inside, loud music pulsates over the speakers and drug-addled party-goers writhe and undulate to the throb of the beat. In one corner, Kylo thinks he can make out a mass of bodies trembling and rippling in tandem. The place, clearly, is less than legal, and Kylo wonders how Hux stumbled upon it.

They sit down in a dim corner, far from prying eyes. Hux orders them two cheap drinks.

“I can’t stand this shithole.” Hux says.

Kylo doesn’t think he’s ever heard the other man swear. He doesn’t respond immediately, allowing Hux to continue, “Nasty place. Nothing but criminals and lowlifes.”

Yet here they are, drowning in the club’s thick and heady fog of sex and alcohol.

A hostess, dressed in little more than a leather collar and shiny shoes, deposits the drinks at their table. Hux gives her a wink and pushes a stack of credits into the fabric at her chest. Kylo tries not to stare at the man’s brazenness. The Hux he knows would certainly never wink.

“So Ren, bad dreams?” asks Hux once she’s wandered off.

Kylo takes a swig from the glass. It tastes like shit.

“Occasionally.” He admits. He is reticent to open this box, knows it will be used against him. But he is tired and torn, and perhaps sharing is the balm he needs. He swallows another mouthful. It’s even worse this time. He grimaces lightly.

Kylo licks his lips, considers his next words carefully. “And it’s Ben. My name. Or was. I guess. Not really sure anymore.” He clamps down on his tongue before he can say anything more on the topic. He shouldn’t have said anything at all, really. He has to remind himself that Hux is not his friend, holds no loyalties and owes no favours to Kylo Ren. No, he reports to Snoke, and that makes him a dangerous receptacle for Kylo’s secrets.

Kylo drains the rest of his drink. It burns.

Luckily, Hux says nothing about Kylo’s little slip. He just raises the glass to his lips. Immediately, his face contorts. “This tastes like Bantha piss.” He says.

Kylo snorts. “Shouldn’t have ordered the cheapest thing available then.”

“Strongest thing, actually.” Hux laughs. He looks at Kylo with a smirk, “You drank it fast. It’ll hit you soon enough.”

“Well, shit.”

Hux is right, of course. Within ten minutes of Hux’s declaration, Kylo finds that he is absolutely hammered. The walls, once upright, now tilt dangerously in his vision. The haze of smoke and drugs, which he’d initially found distasteful, is suddenly bearable. Even the masses of half-nude bodies appear sensual instead of lewd.

Kylo realises he is well and truly drunk. Horridly, horridly drunk. He’s going to regret this come morning.

Beside him, Hux is still nursing his first glass, only a couple sips in. Compared to Kylo, he could be sober.

But Hux is sitting crookedly, posture loosened from its usual stiffness. His face is lightly flushed and his eyes glazed. Even his hair, usually a picture of tidiness, stands disheveled.

Kylo, in all his drunken glory, decides he wants to touch it.

Slowly, hands unsteady, he reaches forward to brush the strands off of Hux’s forehead.

Hux does not move, but Kylo can feel his breath speed up, sees the way his pupils dilate.

He’s about to lean back when Hux surges forward.

Their mouths clash. It’s all teeth and tongue and bumping noses as they both try to assert dominance. The kiss feels strange and foreign despite their mutual desire, an overflow of tension that’s been building up for months. It’s filthy, and the hottest thing Kylo’s ever experienced.

Warm hands make their way to his neck, trace lines down his chest… Hux pushes the table out of the way, slamming Kylo into the wall behind him. The hands move from his chest to brush against his sides and settle on is hips. They grope each other sloppily, open mouth kisses spilling hot air between them.

Hux’s hands come up to cradle his face and Kylo shivers. He thrusts his tongue deeper into Hux’s mouth, then pulls back to mouth soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

When he arrives at Hux’s pulse point, he lays his tongue to work, sucking the salty skin.

Hux whimpers.

There is something about watching his General lose control, come undone, that makes Kylo’s dizzy-drunk world come into focus.

Kylo turns them around, so that Hux is the one pinned to the wall. The breathy moan that the action pulls out of Hux makes him chuckle.

“N-not. Not here.”

“Not an exhibitionist?” Kylo asks, peppering Hux’s pale throat with kisses.

Hux gasps. “Outside. Alleyway. Now.”

“My pleasure.”

They stumble their way into the muggy night air, tripping over one another as they refuse to separate.

They bump into the wall and Hux’s mouth curls into a smile beneath his. Kylo tries not to giggle at the absurdity of the situation.

The kisses slow.

It’s too tender, too close to something it should not be. Kylo can feel Hux pliable and soft beneath his hands. He lays his forehead against Hux’s, lets his eyes drift shut.

They stay there, unmoving, for a long moment. Kylo knows the moment cannot last. This night has strayed from their usual interactions, has begun to wind down paths they cannot follow.

He feels Hux stiffening under his hands. Kylo exhales and takes a step back.

Hux clears his throat.

“Ready to head back?” he asks.

Kylo blinks. Nods.

They separate slowly. Kylo doesn’t want to, wants to stay here in this dumb piss-stained alleyway on this dumb, uninviting planet. He knows they can’t, that their positions do not allow for such attachments. The Dark Side is no place for sentimental affection.

He looks at Hux. Already, the man’s face is shuttered, mask slipping back into place. He appears put together, in control.

Kylo still feels drunk. Now, it makes him feel ridiculous - self-conscious - rather than content.

Hux turns on his heel and leaves the alley. Kylo, ever the masochist, follows.

They walk back to base side by side, shoulders occasionally bumping from their proximity.

Kylo has never felt more alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
